Most Hated, page 16
He laughed. “Haven’t we made fun of that?”
“Yes, and I love that she’s sponsored by booze companies and hangover cures.”
Mick stood up, still holding my hand. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you need a shower.”
“Do I?”
“You’ve got hair like a banshee and you smell like booze.”
“Ew, I hate that smell. Booze through pores. Do I really?”
“Kinda. But I want you to come take a shower with me.”He winked.
My heart surged. I swear, Mick is the only man in the world who can still give me those beginning butterflies that usually die out or mature over time.
I threw off the white cloud of a comforter and followed him into the shower.
It steamed up, and he stripped me down before stripping down himself. He looked good.
A little advice: marry an athlete. As long as you can trust him, marry an athlete.
I hopped into the big, beautiful shower—Mick smacked me on the ass and said, “damn you’re hot.”
I laughed, flattered as always, but knowing how impossible that was right now given the state of me.
And then we had some of the best sex I could remember.
A bit of it was the delirium, a bit of it was some of the unresolved anger at each other, and I like to think the rest was us.
When we finished—and he made sure we both did—we laughed with cringing faces, feeling certain we had been overheard.
Then we spent the next half hour luxuriating in the steam, cracking up as we experimented with all the dials and levers and nozzles. When we got out, I felt good again, even happy. I still had a crushing headache. Mick went out to get me coconut water and digestive cookies, and I hoped that I was being paranoid when he returned from the errand and shade passed across his face again.
Please stay, Mick. Please stay right here, with me, in this, together.
***
The IV scene we shot was fun. Lexi came over to Sabrina and Budgie’s, and we all sat on the back porch. I had thrown on some makeup, but Zoe asked me to tone it down a little, saying I looked too glam. That was not true, I knew I looked sunken and not anything close to normal. But I guess she wanted that.
It took ages, we had to film our sleepy, hungover entrances a few times each, my entrance including walking in with a giant Evian—which forced me to have almost too much water and meant that the final cut included me stopping for a moment, for fear I would projectile all the liquid.
They even filmed the needles going into us more than once. That part was a little excruciating.
I had to repeat my joke “can’t we please pour a few Bloody Marys and call it a day?” five times. They had me say it in a few different tones. It lost all sense of humor by the end.
But whenever things got annoying, Lexi managed to lift us back up. She may be a vapid, young thing, but she had a way of making people feel at ease. Maybe it was how disinterested she seemed in the unpleasant or deep, but on days like this, that worked for me.
After we were hydrated, we were shuttled in a Sprinter Van to the yoga studio in the solarium at Nicole’s place. We all had on our yoga pants, and we looked like a parody of rich bitches. It was all still new enough for me to find it funny and cute.
Lexi went missing, and when she showed up again, she was with someone I assumed was the teacher. He was fit as hell and had a tan that would have looked more at home on the west coast. He was defined and muscular, but not in a hulky way. Sabrina caught my attention, when she choked on her water at his arrival.
I tapped Budgie. “Does she know him?”
And with a big stage wink she answered, “I think they’ve met. At Lexi’s sugar daddy’s house.”
“She went to his house?” I had forgotten that all the while I was drownproofing in Dahlia’s world of crazy, everyone else had been filming their own stuff.
“Yes, it seems Miss Lexi lives in an industrial three bedroom in the Financial District with a nasty mother fucker.”
I cracked up and then was told to quiet down, as it was Lexi’s turn to speak. With a weak apology I switched to stretching my left leg.
“Ladies, this is Leo,” Lexi introduced. “He’s going to be our teacher for today. He’s going to lead us through some poses before we have our light lunch on the veranda. Let’s give him a round of applause, shall we?”
We all clapped along, not quite sure why.
He looked bashful, as he took to the front of the room.
“Hello, girls, how are you all doing this fine morning?”
“Oh my god, he’s Australian. Ladies, hold me back, hold me back!” Mariana reached for Nicole.
I hoped the camera didn’t catch my eye roll. The thirsty old cougar act was tired.
“Alright, so who here has done yoga before?”
Everyone but Budgie raised a hand.
“Perfect, I’m going to do some relatively basic stuff, but if you need an adjustment get my attention and I can give you either a more advanced position or one that better suits your level of experience.”
Budgie laughed. “I’ll need you to come by and help me back into a seated position.”
“I’m sure you’re capable of more than you think you are, Ms. Verroye.” He smiled and then went to his own mat at the head of the class. “Let’s start in a seated position. There are blocks beside each of your mats, if you need to, feel free to prop with those and ask how, if you’re unsure.”
I still wasn’t at the top of my game and when I said that to Budgie—who looked very out of her element in the athleisure wear—she said, from a clumsy downward dog, “don’t worry honey, I’m popping some lunch champagne after this. We’ll have earned it.”
I laughed, got shushed.
“Oh Leo,”said Mariana, “Is it true Lexi isn’t your only friend here?”
“Ooh!” said Nicole.
Leo blushed. “Now bring your right foot forward…”
“I heard you and Sabrina went down under.”
What a tired Australia-plus-sex joke. But wait, really?
“Is that true?” asked Nicole. “Oh my god, Sabrina, I had no idea… !”
From Nicole’s unconvincing delivery of feigned surprise, I knew two things: (1) Nicole was fed this line by production and (2) Nicole didn’t have an acting career in her future.
Sabrina didn’t lift her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Now bring that foot back, let it float, reach back toward the doors, keeping your hips parallel with the floor.”
“Sounds like you kept your hips parallel with Sabrina’s!” said Mariana, who then let out a whoops! before falling to the ground.
“Did she?” I asked Budgie, who was in child’s pose.
She looked up at me. “I think she might have.”
“Now bring that foot down to the earth, not forgetting to keep your weight evenly distributed.”
“Easy for you to say, you don’t haveTriple D boobs,” said Mariana.
“No one told me today was The Mariana Show,” I said. “But keep it up, you’re a wealth of giggles.”
“I’m full of ’em, Dahlia.”
“Deep inhale…”
“I’m jealous, Sabrina,” said Mariana, sounding not-jealous at all. “I’m having trouble getting a handle on your type though. First a proper Brit, now a hot Aussie. What’s next?”
“And now walk or jump to the front of the mat, rising slowly, one vertebrate at a time.”
“I’m guessing an old rich American, because you’ve gone broke, right?”
“Stretch your arms out to your sides…”
“But that’s sort of Lexi’s bag, isn’t it?” Mariana said, laughing at her own joke.
Lexi, bless her, laughed and said, “my man is taken!”
Budgie and I exchanged a look. Sabrina looked the way she often had in the press. Stoic, statuesque, and impermeable.
***
Before we wrapped, Sabrina invited everyone to her place for the evening event. We already knew that was on the books, but every invitation had to be on camera or it “didn’t happen,” Zoe had reminded us. The plan was a small outdoor dinner party. There would be a few other people coming, though I didn’t know who that would be.
When the cameras stopped rolling and the mics collected, Budgie pulled me aside and narrowed her eyes gesturing at Zoe.
“I don’t like how happy that one looks.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She shook her head. “She’s got the same look in her eye I see in the vicious understudies at the playhouse. Waiting for their opportunity to break a lead’s leg to get in the spotlight.”
Zoe’s cheeks were tight with a resisted grin, and she wasn’t making eye contact with anyone or anything but her phone. Budgie was right.
The girl who controlled us all looked a little too happy.
26
Sabrina
Sabrina had always had hosting anxiety. She was good at it, and that was due in part to the very fact that she was always anxious about it. It was her mother’s voice she heard when she tried to get things in order. The cameras circling her all felt like her mother’s permeating gaze, watching, watching, waiting to catch a mistake.
Her mother had been famous for her hosting. She even put out a book once, Host Like a Verroye. It had massive sales, the advance and royalties falling in heaps into their black hole of endless wealth. Now that she was gone, the royalty checks still showed up, but they arrived addressed to Sabrina.
Her mother,Victoria Verroye (ViVi), had been a socialite when that mattered. It wasn’t the same world anymore. But when she was a young mother and wife, she had thrown some of the most lavish parties the magazines had ever seen. There were always squads of cameras crouching and taking close-ups of her perfect, fresh-flower centerpieces,her impeccable tablescapes,and every other detail of her ever-gorgeous presentation. She always had immaculately groomed servers passing silver and crystal platters of tiny, beautiful, expensive food. Before influencers, there were women like Victoria Verroye. As happens with the exquisitely wealthy, they seldom pay for the tins of caviar or the same-day fresh lobster or baked-this-morning pastries that show up. All anyone wanted was to get mentioned in the corner caption of one of her photos. It could make a small business into an iconic stop in the city. Florists, small vineyards, bakeries—countless companies had made their big breakthrough by getting a nod from ViVi.
To this day, Sabrina got handwritten letters from aging owners of now-quintessential shops, restaurants, and companies that credited all of their success to the “generosity of the Verroye family.”
It had been a long time since Sabrina had hosted anything at all, and this was the first time since losing the title and the marriage. It had to be perfect.
Sabrina was running around checking completed things and panicking about the things that were not yet done.
It wasn’t even a big party—dinner and cocktails on the lawn.
But, as ViVi would say, there is no small party; only elegant gatherings, and they begin when one is joined by another.
If she couldn’t pull it off with perfection, then she wasn’t ViVi’s little Sabrina.
Budgie was helping some—always the fun, smiling one who could balance out Sabrina’s contagious high tension. While Sabrina was likely to look at a slow-moving delivery man and ask him what had happened to him that made him move like the air was molasses, Budgie could get away with saying, “look, Ryan, is it? I’m going to be straight with you, hon. You’re movin’ in micromotion, and we need you to step it up. Sound good?” At least, she’d toss him a wink and, at most, a crisp hundred-dollar bill, and the job was done.
Sabrina couldn’t pull off copying her style. It didn’t work coming from a woman like her. She was the skinny, irritable schoolmarm whose joking was often considered rudeness. Budgie was the beloved who had all the success and none of the wrinkles.
She was always telling Sabrina to breathe and let it be, it would happen, it was a party, but it didn’t relax her. It never did. Even if she could take a moment and breathe deeply while Budgie walked her through a breathing exercise, fifteen minutes later, Sabrina would be screaming internally again.
Budgie even managed to keep the staff laughing while they all signed NDAs, ensuring that they wouldn’t post unauthorized pictures. One of the PAs passed them out, and Budgie made it fun. Sabrina could never have.
The setup for the party was finally coming together around four. They were on schedule.
The table on the deck was exceptional—everything white and pale pink. The food was coming along, even though the chef had—in some quite certain terms—indicated he would rather deal with Budgie for the rest of the evening.
Sabrina hadn’t shouted at him or anything, it was simply the magical power her pluming stress had on people working against a clock.
It drove her nuts that she couldn’t have music. Music always set the tone of the party. Her mother had always said that—it had its own chapter, but it was explained there were licensing and sound issues.
The wine was chilled. The glasses were too. Everything was nearly there. The food wasn’t ready, and half the serving team was flirting with each other, shirts untucked and bowties loose around their neck. One girl in particular had her white shirt unbuttoned very low, and Sabrina could see the brand of her bra between the cups.
At five o’clock, two hours before dinner, Sabrina went to her room for glam. When she held a hairpin for the stylist, she noticed her hands were shaking. She was uncertain why.
At 6:30 p. m. they were done, gone, and she was dressed.
There was a knock on her door.
It was Lexi.
“Come in,” she said, opening the door all the way.
Lexi did,hands behind her back. “Oh my gosh,you look amazing.”
“Thank you, so do you.”
There was a small hesitation before Lexi said, “I have something for us. Please don’t get mad at me.”
Lexi brought her hands to the front, exposing a miniature zip baggie decorated with a few smiley face stickers and filled with white powder.
“Oh, lord, Lexi—”
“Before you say no, can I pitch my case?”
Sabrina laughed. “Okay, good luck.”
Lexi sat down on the edge of Sabrina’s bed with a galumphing bounce.
“You seem a little stressed out. I feel like everyone else is having fun around you, and I know part of why you’re doing,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “the show is to get back to being the old Sabrina Verroye that absolutely defined a decade.”
“Did I say that?”
Lexi rolled her eyes. “Look, I have a doctorate in celebrity. Of course that’s what you want. You’re in bad—well, sort of awful—straits right now with the press. You need to wake up. You need to get driven. You need to be on point. And this is some good stuff, I promise. It’s clean, it won’t do anything but what you remember. I know you used to do coke. Weren’t you sort of famous for it?”
“No—well … not intentionally. Intentionally known for it, I mean.”
“Why did you do it then?”
Sabrina should have thrown her out. Told her she was an adult, not the stick figure nineteen-year-old she used to be who felt immortal and would try anything once, twice, ten times to be sure.
But somehow, she couldn’t. Perhaps it was the little, small, tiny addiction that she had fed like a feral cat for years.
“I did it then because I never wanted to sleep, I wanted to be alive all the time. Ironically. And because I believed it made me … well I felt on. Back then. When I did it. But it was stupid.”
Lexi shrugged. “Come on. You only live once, and I’ll do it with you. I do it all the time. It’s the only way I’m getting anything done.”
Sabrina resisted asking what an Instagram “celebrity” had to get done.
“This is ridiculous. I can’t. I’m—”
“Don’t you dare mention your age. Remember when we talked? I said you were aging yourself like bad and you really are. You have to remember you still got your life to live.”
It struck a nerve in Sabrina, who had lived in desperate fear of getting old, unimportant, and ugly for most of her life. An unfortunate but likely outcome when a girl is told she is young, beautiful, and full of promise for the foundational years of her life.
All day she had asked what would ViVi do? Was there anything wrong with asking what would young, vibrant Sabrina do?
Maybe she missed that wild mess.
“This is crazy. Alright, yes. But only a little.”
Lexi squealed. “You’re going to feel much better. By the way, everything is done downstairs, I knew you were stressed so I asked, to make sure, before coming up. It’s done and it’s effing beautiful, obviously, and they’re taking pictures and filming it right now. Zoe called in photographers to pitch some spread in Town & Country.”
Sabrina’s heart lurched. Town & Country. Just as though ViVi was watching.
Hopefully not right now.
Lexi was a professional. She took a mirrored jewelry tray from the vanity, removed the Van Cleef bracelet, saying, “ooh, fab!” and then dumped out a small pile of the powder.
“Okay wait,” she said, and for a moment Sabrina thought she might be thinking better of it, and she couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed. “What’s your favorite song?”
“My favorite song?”
“Wait, hold on two secs.”
She clicked and scrolled through her phone until an Ed Sheeran song started playing through the Sonos system.
“Music sets the tone, isn’t that in your mom’s book?”
“Did you read that?”
“Are you kidding? I’m a gold digger trying to land a rich man, of course, it was my textbook. You should see my dinner parties.”
It was hard to imagine her playing housewife. But if she read ViVi’s guide, she must have picked up a thing or two.
She used a black card she had conjured from nowhere to efficiently cut up the powder and then shifted the pile into two thin lines. “It always tastes better cut with a black Amex and a hundred-dollar bill!” she said to herself. Then she magicked a bill and rolled it into a makeshift straw and offered it to Sabrina. “You go first.” Lexi instructed.
